


more love streaming out the wrong way (and i don't want to be the kind that says 'the wrong way')

by uncomfortable



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dreams, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 11:09:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2619569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uncomfortable/pseuds/uncomfortable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>stiles didn't know how much he and derek had to talk about until werewolves were taken out of the conversation, but then stiles starts dreaming again and-- yeah, death is a good conversation-starter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	more love streaming out the wrong way (and i don't want to be the kind that says 'the wrong way')

 

**i.**

  
it starts after the leshy, after stiles feels roots encase his throat and body and suddenly he's suffocating in bark and moss and he's going to _die and the last thing he told his dad was 'don't eat the chilli, i swear to god'._

then derek carves him a way out, slashes at the bark and howls-- _oh, he howls_ until scott howls back, until the heart of the forest is stripped from the leshy's home, buried inside a sparrow's stomach and stiles is shaking on soft earth.

after, when stiles can sort-of walk again, derek helps him into the jeep and drives him home and his dad is out (he finds out later, his dad was with peter, going over scenario after scenario after 'how many werewolves does it take to take down a suburban spellcaster' after 'that situation would never happen').

stiles hands are shaking as he fumbles with the keys and it isn't until after stiles drops them for the second time that derek nudges him out of the way and opens it himself.

  
 **ii.**

stiles sits at his desk, buries his face in his hands and rubs at his eyes over and over. runs his fingers through his hair, cracks his knuckles, bounces his knee until he feels like it's not even there anymore.

"at least now you don't smell like three-day old greasy french fries." derek mutters and stiles laughs because oh, now he has a sense of humor. he does smell like soil though, he can't deny that.

"thanks for the input, i'll be sure to take it into account the next time i restock my cologne _eau de mcdonalds drive-through_." stiles says, preening when derek huffs out a laugh.

derek throws a clean t-shirt at his face, taking one for himself despite stiles' loud noise of complaint. he turns away as he tugs the shirt covered in mud over his head and stiles' eyes are on his triskelion and stiles wonders how much pain that would have taken just to have something like that stuck on you.

"should i stay?"

"yeah, yeah sure."

 

**iii.**

they talk.

they talk about mad kings, about 'hey, would you ever eat your own heart', about if a non-caffeinated coffee drink still counts as coffee, about 'how much coffee had you had this week', and stiles didn't know that they had a lot to talk about till the werewolves got out of the conversation.

they talk and talk and talk until they're both on his bed and derek's arm is over his face because 'no, i don't think a cow is an ugly animal, why would you even ask that?' and stiles' hands are waving out describing how cows actually look, and that no animal looks pretty because what does that even _mean_ in today's society.

they talk until derek hears stiles' father parking in the driveway, until he mutters out a quick 'your dad's here' and stiles is closing his eyes, wondering what happened in his life that instead of explaining a failed grade he's wondering how he's supposed to explain why exactly he left to fight a vicious forest spirit _without telling his dad_.

derek's fingers brush against his when he leaves and stiles' fingers burn for days afterward.

 

**iv.**

stiles is dying. stiles is underwater, stiles is encased in bark, stiles is punched to death by gerard, stiles has matt's gun pressed against his neck, stiles has peter's teeth against his jugular, stiles has the nogitsune in the bottom of his stomach and eating him from the inside out.

stiles is dreaming, which is something stiles didn't think he could do after the nogitsune but the past week says otherwise. 

he goes to sleep and he dreams about hyenas eating him alive and him eating his friends spoon by spoon and scott drawing a line of blood up his wrist and witches must be the problem, he thinks, there can't be anything else (later, he thinks, the bark in his bloodstream must have kick-started this whole thing, must have made him remember what it was like to have death pawing at his door-- as if he didn't remember it already).

except he goes to deaton with dark under his eyes and deaton asks him to say a few words and burn some sage and he does it. he does whatever magic hocus pocus deaton wants him to do but even that doesn't help and deaton just tells him that 'not everything is supernatural, stiles.' except it is. it is and he can't afford to think otherwise.

 

**v.**

stiles shows up at derek's flat at four a.m. out of his skin. his hands are shakingshaking _shaking_ , he doesn't know how to use his words anymore and derek has to place a firm hand on his shoulder to calm him down enough so he can talk properly.

"the bogeyman doesn't exist," derek tells him, after he gets all the words out, after he gets a shamble of a sentence out of his throat and into the air.

stiles' lips press into a thin line and he feels his throat tighten and his vocal chords must be snapped clean or something because he's not talking. he's not talking and he wants to talk, wants to force the syllables out of his lungs but it's not happening and derek is looking at him weird and he can't breathe, he can't breathe again--

"stiles," derek's hand is gripping his arm.

"yeah?"

"tell me what's going on."

 

**vi.**

  
it happens over and over. stiles goes to sleep. stiles dies. stiles wakes up. stiles goes to derek and talks until his voice is hoarse and he goes back to sleep and then nothing. stiles wakes up. stiles goes back home before his dad gets up and then over and over.

derek talks back, derek talks about laura and cora and his mother and his family. stiles tells him about his mother and then it's like that, for a while, a quiet back and forth between them that only they can understand. sometimes stiles doesn't talk at all, just lays in derek's bed beside him, just listens to the in and out of their breathing.

"i don't think i'm that alone anymore." derek says one night.

stiles' eyes are closed but he cracks them open to look at derek's profile in the dark, he's on his side and derek isn't. he's seventeen and derek isn't. his eyes are trained on the ceiling like he's waiting for something important, like he's waiting for some divine revelation or something and stiles wants to kiss the look right off his face but he doesn't.

stiles eyes shift down towards the space of skin between derek's shirt and his sweatpants, hipbone peeking through.

his hand moves, slowly, fingers ghosting along derek's hipbone and stiles doesn't know how much time passes before he says, "you're not."

  
 **vii.**

  
kira and scott are happy and lydia is happy and everyone is perfectly fine, they all smile a bit too tight and they talk about student-stuff, about colleges and about GPAs and stiles wants to scream. wants to find whatever magical amulet they have that turns them back into high school students after they finish fighting the magical beast of the month.

"i don't understand," stiles says to derek, biting on his knuckle. "they all act like they're fine, none of them act like we're fucked up but we are, we're fucked. we're fucked up."

"maybe they don't want to talk about it." derek's hands are pulling stiles' hands away from his mouth, his teeth. then stiles is thinking about derek's teeth, derek's teeth on his knuckles, derek's teeth on his skin, derek's teeth ripping someone's throat out with the muscle and the blood. derek's teeth against his teeth, with his blood.

"maybe they don't." stiles rolls over to face derek who's staring at him weirdly again. it's one a.m. and stiles is not tired, stiles is thinking about derek's hands and lips and everything and stiles isn't tired. they're both looking at each other weirdly, stiles knows it, he doesn't have to see his own face in the mirror to tell. 

"why don't you kiss me?" stiles asks him and derek doesn't blink.

"do you want me to?" derek asks him and stiles doesn't blink, instead his eyes dart down towards derek's lips like he's considering and derek's voice is flat, not teasing. stiles' eyes linger longer than he needs to and he just wants to make derek wait, wants to make it seem like his knee-jerk answer isn't yes-- even though it is, it is, _it is_.

"yeah." stiles murmurs.

derek kisses him over and over and over.

  
 **viii.**

"are we going to get back together?" malia asks him one day at school while they're having lunch and stiles looks up at her from his mashed potatoes that taste nothing like potatoes. her eyebrows are furrowed and her lips are set into a frown and stiles still finds her attractive but he also doesn't want to kiss her. he thinks of sharp edges and bones sticking out at him through dirt and derek's tombstone and shakes his head.

"no." stiles tells her, looks back down at his mash, then looks back up at her. "do you want to?" her eyes flicker over his shoulder, as if she's considering it, but she shakes her head. "i can smell him all over you," she looks like she's confessing a secret that everyone knows and normally stiles would ask who else knows-- who else knows about them? except he doesn't know what 'normally' is anymore.

"so why did you ask?"

she shrugs, just drags his plate towards her and eats the food left on his plate; including his mashed potatoes.

 

**ix.**

"malia isn't going to college." stiles tells derek and he shrugs. "not for everybody, i guess" derek offers.

they're in derek's kitchen, it's seventeen minutes past midnight and they're making easymac. stiles glances at derek from the corner of his eye. "want to have sex after this?" they've done it a total of zero times and stiles is painfully aware-- it's been a month since his eighteenth birthday and the question had been weighing on his mind for longer than that.

derek raises an eyebrow down at him, he's leaning against the fridge and stiles is sitting on his floor. "is it your first time?"

stiles shrugs, runs a hand through his hair before nodding. "yeah, with a guy, that is. yeah."

derek nods again, the microwave dings and he grabs two spoons. "sure, here."

they eat a bit too quickly, stiles kisses derek too hard and his hands are restless and all over the place but under derek he can finally concentrate on something.

 

**x.**

stiles and derek have lunch. stiles and derek go to the movies. stiles and derek argue over takeout options.

if it was with anyone else, with scott or with lydia or with malia, stiles would want to tear his fucking hair out. would want to scream so loud over the conversation that his tongue turns raw and his head stops burning because he can't remember the last time anyone mentioned allison's name. he can't remember the last time anyone asked him about his dad's health. he can't remember what they're _supposed to be_ , because he's not sure what friends are at this point.

except he's talking about circumcision and how it's not really more hygenic and derek makes this face and shoves a piece of chicken in his mouth. "i'm eating." 

"yeah, ok, that's nice." stiles says, lips quirking. his eyes fall down to the chinese takeout box in derek's hand then back up to derek. he hates his noodles, they don't taste good in his mouth anymore, and he's sure derek's figured that out.

"asshole." derek mutters, snatching away the takeout box in stiles' hands and replacing it with his own. "i asked you, 'do you really want that? are you sure?' like five times."

"what can i say, the heart wants what it wants." derek shoves his leg off the couch, stiles laughs and laughs and laughs.

 

**xi.**

"do you think about allison?" he asks scott, when they're both alone. when there's no one around to hear them, when they're both sitting on scott's floor looking over the bestiary for anything relating to rusalkas.

scott looks up at him and there's something about the way he looks that just makes stiles' skin crawl. he's scared that scott will say no, even though he knows the answer. "yeah," scott says, "i still do." 

then scott's face scrunches up and turns concerned, stiles wants to laugh. "you're dreaming again, aren't you?" scott says while placing a hand on stiles' shoulder with this hard look in his eyes.

stiles doesn't know why his eyes are tearing up, but they are. he rubs a hand over his face as he lets out the chuckle in his throat instead of swallowing it down. "are you asking that as my friend or my alpha?" he wishes he didn't ask, the look on scott's face hurts more than the scratches up his arm from where the rusalka's nails dug into his skin.

"are you saying there's a difference?"

stiles doesn't answer him, instead just gives him a withering look that makes scott shut up for a full three minutes before; "so, you and derek, huh?"

he laughs and it's very much not-bitter, because generic high school relationship talk is much better than no talk at all. he punches scott in the shoulder, tells him to shut up, then after a while, "yeah, who would have guessed it?"

scott gives him a weird look. "everyone, stiles, literally everyone."

 

**xii.**

the dreams never really stop.

stiles will wake up thinking about swallowing gasoline then the next day it's mountain ash in his lungs then the next day it'll be something burning through his skin. but the intervals get longer and longer and longer, till stiles can successfully say he hasn't had a dream that didn't result in him screaming himself awake in three weeks.

he still goes to derek's, he doesn't really need a reason to anymore.

 

**xiii.**

"how about," stiles trails off, trying to put a pin on the stray thought in his head. derek is still in bed, his face buried in a pillow, and stiles is leaning against the door frame with a poptart in his hand.

stiles thinks about his dad, who has long since noticed stiles' nightly disappearances. he thinks about scott, who's known about stiles and derek for two months, which means kira probably knows too. lydia hasn't said anything and he's not sure how he knows, but he's certain that she's known the longest. he thinks about derek who smiles when stiles isn't looking, who doesn't mind talking about eating his own heart, who told him he dreams of fire and ash and burning alive.

"you should come over for my dad's barbecue night." derek turns his head slightly, just enough to have a clear view of stiles' face. they both look terrible and it's seven a.m.

"yeah?"

"yeah."

**Author's Note:**

> i'm pretty bad at descriptive writing.


End file.
